


tremulo

by firefeufuego



Series: sad orchestra au [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: And Not Dealing With It Great, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Falling In Love, Implied Sexual Content, Mild Language, Sickfic, Sprinked With Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 09:30:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15682665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefeufuego/pseuds/firefeufuego
Summary: Jyn wakes up on the morning of her first proper date with Cassian feeling like death both warmed and frozen over.A flashback of my MITJ au, set just after the end of 'Poco a poco'





	tremulo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TinCanTelephone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinCanTelephone/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Poco a poco](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10437243) by [canardroublard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/canardroublard/pseuds/canardroublard). 



> This was just a little thing that came from being sick and wanting to give Zoey some sickfic not written by her. There's a little joke about both of them being scrawny that's a reference to their meeting in 'Poco a poco', in which Cassian deems Jyn to be too scrawny to be a singer.

Jyn wakes up on the morning of her first proper date with Cassian feeling like death both warmed and frozen over. The ominous tickle at the back of her throat that she’d been ignoring for days is now a power sander and it feels like someone’s standing on her head while stuffing it with runny cotton wool.

She lets a plaintive moan that comes out an octave lower than her usual voice.

_Fuck._

She’s been looking forward to tonight so much, the one bright spot in a week otherwise filled with writing the most boring essay ever for Draven’s class. After briefly considering obtaining a hazmat suit so she could still go, she mournfully reaches for her phone.

_Hey. Can’t make tonight, I am dying of the plague._

She sends it and immediately worries it’s too casual. What’s the appropriate tone here? Sure, they slept together after the recital and it was hands down the best sex Jyn’s ever had. Still, sex doesn’t entail a relationship and she’d rather actually die than come on too strong and be (oh so gently and nicely because this is Cassian) let down.

With another pathetic sound and a haphazard dabbing of her dripping nose, she puts her head back on the pillow and drifts back off into the blessed embrace of sleep.

 

Some time later, she’s woken by a buzzing next to her face and a hacking cough that feels like it took out half a lung. In the panic of it all, it takes her a good hot minute to realise it’s her phone and another to check it’s not her dad. By the time she registers Cassian’s name, the call’s rung out. She scrambles to call him back and he picks up immediately.

‘Hello?’ God, she sounds like Yoda.

Cassian lets out a sympathetic little laugh. ‘Oh no, you really do have the plague.’

Jyn tries to grunt angrily but it comes out as more of a whimper. ‘Don’t laugh.’

She can practically hear his smile. ‘I’m sorry. Will you forgive me if I tell you I’ve come bearing gifts?’

‘What? Where are you?’

‘Just outside your door. I promise there’s drugs in it for you if you can come and let me in.’

Drugs sound amazing and so does he, so she begins the Herculean task of getting out from under the covers and dragging her duvet around her shoulders. She shuffles over to the front door, keeping close to the walls just in case she needs the support. The keys slip out of her fingers and the duvet falls off as she bends to pick them up. That in turns sparks a coughing fit that threatens the other half of her lung. By the time she gets the door open, she’s a swearing, shivering mess.

Cassian’s there on the other side looking as annoyingly handsome and put together as he always does, his arms full of shopping bags.

The fact of him being here is better than any analgesic and she even manages a small twitch of her lips as she grumbles, ‘Welcome to hell.’

She gets a full smile for her efforts. He immediately drops the bags and picks up the duvet, wrapping it around her from behind and placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

Jyn wants to kiss him too, but she doesn’t want to infect him. She settles for kissing his upper arm where it’s wrapped around her. ‘Don’t touch that. You’ll die.’

He squeezes her tighter. ‘I promise. Do you want to be in bed or on the couch?’

‘Couch, please.’

Together they make it over and Cassian starts fluffing pillows to prop her up before tucking her in under the duvet. ‘There. Comfy?’

She nods with a sniffle. ‘I believe I was promised drugs?’

‘You were. Just a second.’ He goes and retrieves his bags, depositing the larger one on her kitchen counter before coming back over to her. ‘I wasn’t sure what kind of medicine to get for the plague, so I tried to cover all the bases. Have you taken anything already?’

She shakes her head and regrets it, the vise over her temples tightening. ‘I don’t really have anything.’

‘Well, you’ll need an antihistamine,’ he rests his soft, warm palm against her sweaty forehead, ‘and some painkillers. Is there anything else?’

Jyn whines when he takes his hand away and he moves it straight back, brushing her damp fringe out of her face. ‘A cough. And my throat hurts.’

He gets out a bottle of cough syrup and starts reading the ingredients, which is such an adult, _Cassian_ thing to do that Jyn can’t help but smile a little. ‘I think this should be enough. I don’t want to double you up on anything.’

Jyn, who usually grabs one of whatever’s in sight and promises relief, nods along. ‘No, of course not,’ she says seriously, like a grown up.

He pours her a dose and laughs at the face she makes at the sickly aftertaste before getting her a glass of water. Jyn settles back into her cocoon and Cassian stands there a moment, rocking on his heels.

_Stay._ She bites the word back, it feels too big in her mind, too desperate. Instead, she blithely points him towards her armchair. ‘Come and put something boring on. My DVDs are in that folder on the coffee table.’

The lines of his body (long and lean and so fucking perfect when they were laid out underneath her and Jyn, _focus_ ) relax and he happily starts flicking through her movie collection. He eventually picks a documentary on Latin American revolutionary movements, a gift from Saw.

She groans about it, but not that much because he’s here in her space looking like he belongs in it. Plus, it’s pretty cute how interested he is, his body pitched forward and a little furrow in his brow. Her eyes stay on his face until the last moment before she falls back to sleep.

 

This time, it’s the smell of cooking that wakes her, something spicy and fragrant. Jyn drifts for a while, listening to the comforting, domestic sounds of Cassian pottering around her kitchen. He’s humming something, one of Bach’s maybe, his tone warm and golden.

When she feels up to it, she opens her eyes and shifts up into a sitting position. She takes inventory of her symptoms, her nose is still blocked but not runny, her fever is lower, and the cough has yet to rear its ugly head. Her headache has been replaced with a not unpleasant spaciness, probably the cough syrup.

Cassian comes over with two steaming bowls and Jyn’s mouth waters. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Better.’ Her voice is still wrecked, but her throat isn’t as sore.

‘Do you feel up to eating? I made soup.’ He sets the bowl in front of her when she nods. ‘It’s a bit spicy but it should help with your nose.’

With a rushed ‘Thank you,’ Jyn dives in, moaning as the flavours hit her tongue. After the weird musty taste of having to keep her mouth open all day, the soup is heaven. She swallows and it warms her from within. ‘S’good, Cass.’

He blushes and ducks his head. ‘I’m glad you like it.’

Only, he doesn’t seem the type to be bashful about his cooking and Jyn wants to know what she did to bring that colour to his cheeks (because she likes it, she likes it _so much_ ). She catches his eye and the blush deepens. ‘What is it?’

He shrugs but doesn’t look away. ‘Just, I like when you call me that.’

She’s immediately brought back to the last and only time she’s shortened his name, in the very next room while they were clinging to each other and _close_ and- ‘Oh.’

Blood rushes to her cheeks too and the moment holds with a delicious kind of tension. Of course, that’s when her cough decides to reassert itself and she has to tuck her flushed face into her elbow.

They finish their lunches and Cassian makes tea. Jyn reaches for the DVDs and picks something mindless with lots of explosions and a good soundtrack. She leaves it on top of the folder for Cassian to put in the player, which he does before settling back in his armchair. She didn’t notice it before but he’s taken off his shoes and jacket and between him calmly sipping his tea and his toes curling in her carpet, he looks right at home.

It strikes her hard and deep just how badly she wants him to be at home here, to grow comfortable enough that he’ll _stay_.

_Be careful, Jyn._ It’s the voice that’s kept her well-guarded and safe since Saw dumped her and left. She reassures herself that the way he’s taking care of her speaks pretty strongly of at least some feelings. _Except that he’s nice enough to do this for anyone._

Her muddled thoughts are interrupted when Cassian chuckles at some quip on screen and catches her gaze, his perfect face soft and warm.

_‘So lovely.’_ She doesn’t realise she’s said it until he replies.

‘Oh, um. Thank you.’

Damn that cough syrup, though she doesn’t mind so much when she sees how he reacts. The flush is back on his cheeks and his eyes are wide in surprised pleasure even as he tries to play off the compliment. _He likes it, he probably doesn’t even know how much._

Jyn swallows (and ignores how much it hurts) as she imagines getting him under her and telling him exactly how beautiful she finds him. She files the image away for later, adding it to her mental list of _Things That Make Cassian Happy_. She hopes that one day she’ll be able to add herself to that list.

Then the cough syrup intervenes again, inserting the melody of Sheryl Crow’s _If It Makes You Happy_ into her head like a virus.

Her poor abused throat suffers mightily from her attempt to hum it (though that octave leap is beyond her even on a good day) and even Cassian winces, though perhaps in sympathy.

‘Better stick to piano, I think. Drink your tea, it’ll help.’

‘Yes, mum.’ She takes a sip and is almost annoyed when he’s right.

The action picks up in the film so they quieten down and watch the pretty explosions. The score even has a nice viola solo, which makes Cassian smile.

Jyn, warm and full of good tea, soup and company, feels her eyelids start to grow heavy. Her thoughts drift back to their night together, remembering how good it felt to have him touch her, even after.

‘I want you closer.’ Again, the words trip out of her mouth by themselves. Still, when he asks if she’s sure, she nods and tosses her pillows to the floor to make room.

He sits down and grabs a pillow before laying both it and her head on his lap. ‘You need to keep your head elevated, it helps your sinuses.’

‘What are you, a doctor?’ The snark is slightly undercut by the way she snuggles into him, breathing in his freshly laundered sweater. He’s going to have to wash it as soon as he gets home because she must be covering it in germs as she nuzzles his belly, small shivers running through her as his muscles jump beneath the fabric.

_You’re very sick and tired, Jyn. You can’t have sex with the nice man._

His fingers sink into her hair, gently working out some of the knots before swirling calming patterns across her scalp. He switches off the TV and fills the quiet with a strangely coherent medley of hummed excerpts from pop songs and symphonies alike. He arrives back at Sheryl Crow and does a much better job of it than Jyn did.

She mumbles, ‘Is this just you proving you’re a better singer than me? Because you’re pretty scrawny too.’

Cassian chuckles and his gentle hand comes down to rest against her cheek, thumb stroking her cheekbone with infinite care.

Jyn wants him to keep doing that. She wants to make him do it, make him laugh and smile and shudder and moan her name. The wanting is almost overwhelming in its strength.

Still, she’s sick, and for the moment, the pull of sleep is stronger still.

As the world fades to black, she thinks she hears him say her name, soft and aching. It’s the way her mother used to say her father’s name, full to the brim with feeling, with l-

But it might just be her imagination, and sleep takes her before she can find out.

 

The next day, she wakes up back in her bed, still feeling miserable, but less than the day before. She rolls over to find a glass of water and a dose of the cough syrup next to a piece of paper. After taking the medicine and washing it down, she reads the note:

_Jyn,_

_The rest of the soup is in the fridge, along with some other groceries so you don’t have to go outside for a few days. Don’t take the cough syrup for more than four days, there’s other drugs if you need them._

_I hope you feel better soon and when you do, I’d still really like to take you out on a date._

_Cassian_

_P.S. We may both be scrawny, but I think you’re perfect._

Her heart melts and she frowns. The bed is cold beside her and all she can picture is Cassian here with her. It’s scary, terrifying really, her heart’s ravenous impatience for him to be near, to be a fully integrated part of her life.

That old fear whispers, _Careful. Don’t feel more than they do._

But there’s a new voice emerging, softer but surprisingly strong. _Don’t, for the love of fuck, let him go._

 


End file.
